The Family Holmes
by Darcy Moore
Summary: Moriarty is back. He is pulling at the strings of Sherlock's life again forcing the youngest Holmes sibling out of hiding.
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft Holmes stood in the holding area of the Harrisgate Asylum.

"We're ready for you,sir," announced the guard as he opened the door for Mycroft.

In the small room was a table and two chairs. One chair was occupied by a young woman with long brown hair. She barely glanced up at him as he took the empty seat across from her. A smile began in the corner of her mouth.

"Rosamund," Mycroft broke the silence first, "you're looking well."

"And you look the same," she replied, "despite the fact that you have been trying to lose weight."

"Don't do that," he ordered, "I did not come here to play games. This is not a social visit!"

"Clearly," Rosamund responded calmly despite the outburst, "why would you make a social visit? What has it been? Five years maybe?"

"Six," Mycroft corrected. He took a deep breath. "I know that you receive a news of sorts in this place. Do you know what is going on out in the real world?"

Rosamund laughed. "Yes, I know ever so much more than you ever give me credit for, Mycroft. I have already been contacted."

Mycroft's shock was palpable. He knew that the asylum wasn't as secure enough but this was ridiculous.

"We have a serious problem, brother mine." She slid the letter toward him to read.

"You are not wrong, little sister."

"What?" John was yelling, "You didn't think that it was worth mentioning? In all the years that I have known you a simple 'I have a sister' was too mundane a fact to toss into a conversation?"

_**Brixton on the day that Sherlock and John first looked at 221b**_

_Sherlock had read him up and down perfectly except for one small detail._

_"Harry's short for Harriet," John continued._

_Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks._

_"Harry's your sister," he deduced. He gritted his teeth. "Sister! There's always something."_

Watson looked at Sherlock waiting for an answer.

"It wasn't relevant," he started. John huffed.

"You are not exactly a reliable gauge for relevancy, Sherlock," he exclaimed, "'I am not dead', 'your wife is a trained assassin', 'I have a sister' There is just some information that you throw out there because it needs to be said."

"I rarely think about her, myself," Sherlock continued, "we are not exactly on speaking terms."

"Alright," John replied, "do you have any other siblings that you want to tell me about?"

"No"

"Do you have any other sibling you don't want to tell me about?"

Sherlock was about to answer when the sound of a throat clearing interrupted the conversation. John turned around to see Mycroft and a young woman in the doorway. She was shorter than Mycroft with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail and she had bright blue eyes like Sherlock. She reminded John of someone but he wasn't exactly sure who. She wore scrubs that looked slightly worn out.

"Well, I can see introductions are going to be necessary. Dr. John Watson, this is our younger sister Rosamund Holmes," Mycroft began, "Rosamund, this is Sherlock's friend and confidant, Dr. John Watson.

"Pleasure. I read your blog all the time. Very well written," Rosamund said to John. She did not extend her hand nor did her tone convey any genuine pleasure in the greeting.

Mycroft continued. "She will be staying in the upstairs bedroom-"

"My room... My old room?" John asked.

"I understand that you still frequent the room when you and Mary have disagreements but you will have to make do with the sofa." Mycroft continued, "Cordelia has taken Rosamund's sizes and will be in later with new clothes. Rosamund is to only leave this domicile in the company of Sherlock, myself and provisionally John Watson. Now if there is nothing else..."

"Oh, This is ridiculous, Mycroft," Sherlock interrupted, "You don't have to stand so official. We are not being watched."

"That is something I am well aware of, Sherlock." Mycroft replied.

"If it is any consolation, I don't want to be here at all. I was perfectly safe where I was," Rosamund interjected.

Sherlock looked at her strangely for second and then back to Mycroft. "Don't you have a country to run, brother?"

"Cordelia will be here no later than five," Mycroft stated. With that and a nod to John and Rosamund he left.

The remaining three stood in the room looking at each other.

"So... I would like to get washed up eventually," Rosamund started.

"Through the kitchen and to the left. Towels and robe are already in there for you," Sherlock replied.

"Thank you," Rosamund said. She started for the bathroom.

"I don't want you here at all," Sherlock called after her.

John looked at Sherlock. He knew that his friend could be cold. He knew that the depths of sociopathic behavior was immense but this interaction with his sister was appalling to watch. It made John's phone calls with Harry seem loving. What alarmed John the most was the seemed level of anger and lack of yelling. Was this what a Holmes family fight was like?

"Sherlock?" John tried to order his question appropriately.

"John." Sherlock returned, "I already know what is going through your head and I suppose I should explain what I can."

John sat in his chair and waited.

"My brother is clever. I am clever. It stands to reason that our sister would also moderately intelligent to say the least. She is. She has a brilliant mind for puzzles and equations. When she was nineteen she was recruited to a terrorist organization operating in Cardiff under the name Juliet Grieves."

"That girl in there? Your sister? She is a terrorist?"

"In the academic sense. Yes. When the cell she worked under was raided most of the members were sent to prison for treason. She would have been a target because the organization found out that her brother worked for the government. Naturally they assumed she turned them in. Mycroft made arrangements for her to love out her days under the protection of Harrisgate Asylum for the criminally insane."


	2. The Case of the Disappearing Hotel Room

Rosamund came down the stairs in her new clothes and plopped down on the couch. Sherlock was playing his violin. He ignored his sister but John did not. He looked the girl over now that she was in street clothes. She looked a lot like Molly Hooper with her hair back. John glanced at Sherlock, still dutifully ignoring his sister. He thought back to some of the conversations he had had with his friend. Certain events seemed very different in the context of Sherlock and his estranged sister.

The first thing John thought of was the relationship between Sherlock and Dr. Hooper. He relied on her but didn't fancy her in the least. He and seem the man be kind to her and cruel in a strangely oblivious way. Sherlock liked having similar figures around him. It made him more comfortable. Was Molly Sherlock's replacement for his sister?

The next thing that John did was calculate when Rosamund was arrested. It had to have been around the time that he and Sherlock met. Sherlock was looking for a new flat and a new flatmate. That was an odd coincidence. There was also the exchange that Sherlock had with Mycroft when he officially introduced him as his brother.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock had asked.

Mycroft responded in his cold manner, "As ever, I'm concerned about you."

Sherlock's reply was malicious, "Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'."

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" Mycroft replied.

"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock was upset.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy." Mycroft's answer was direct.

"I upset her? Me? It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft." Sherlock was indignant.

JOHN: No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?

SHERLOCK: Mother – our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft.

After a short directed insult at Mycroft's weight….

John had been shocked to know that the man that had asked him to spy on Sherlock was related to him. "He's your brother?!"

"Of course he's my brother," Sherlock answered.

"So he's not …"

"Not what?"

"I dunno – criminal mastermind?" John asked.

"Close enough," Sherlock answered.

The Holmes family tree bore strange fruit. Had Sherlock been hinting at issues between not just two sibling but three?

"So my brother must have told you that I am a dangerous sociopath," Rosamund said to John, "Otherwise, I am sure you would have offered me tea by now."

"Would you like some tea?" John offered in reply.

"Yes, I would love some. Thank you," Rosamund said. John poured her a cup and brought it over to her. Then the quiet resumed, filled only with the melody of Sherlock's violin. Rosamund began to peruse the bookshelves and occAsionally picked up a trinket or a book.

Three days later, John was at work and wondering about the silent siblings when the two came into his doctor's clinic.

"John, we have a case," Sherlock stated. Rosamund sat in a chair with a pamphlet about Ebola symptoms.

"By "we" you are including Rosamund, your," John leaned in close and whispered, "you recently out of the psych ward, former terrorist, sister."

"You can add 'keen of hearing' to that list, Doctor Watson. Not like Sherlock had much of a choice," Rosamund said putting down the pamphlet and walking over, "I require constant supervision. Besides how much psycho-terrorism can I do in a room full of police officers."

She threw a forced smile on her face for a moment before returning to her neutral expression. John glanced down, unsure of what to say. Sherlock and Rosamund were better equipped to brush aside the awkward exchange.

"Someone has gone missing from an hotel on the other side of London," Sherlock explained, "The staff and management claim that the missing person in question was never there but the client is insistent that she had dinner with her brother before they each went to their own rooms."

"We are meeting her and Inspector Lestrade in an hour, at the hotel," Rosamund concluded.

An hour later the three were in the lobby with the Detective Inspector and his team. "There is nothing here Sherlock," Lestrade explained, "The hotel staff have been very forthcoming with their records. Your client, Miss Warner, checked in alone. She dined alone in the hotel restaurant. No one remembers seeing her with or talking to anyone in the two days that she has been here."

"And how vigilant could the entire hotel staff have been with this one girl? There is a rather large convention here this weekend," Rosamund called the men's attention to a sign stating the details of the convention and the times of the events. There had been an event last night around the last time the client claimed to have seen her brother, Jack Warner.

"Who is this?" Lestrade asked.

"This is my younger sister, Rosamund Holmes," Sherlock introduced, "Rosamund, Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Sister? Dear God there are more of them," Lestrade exclaimed before remembering his manners, "I mean hello. Nice to meet you, Ros."

"Rosamund," Sherlock and Rosamund corrected all at once.

"Rosamund," Lestrade corrected himself. He let out a breath realizing that there were more Holmeses and that this new one might be just as Holmesy as her brothers.

"As I was saying, is there a guest log for the hotel? That would clear up if this Jack Warner was ever here," Rosamund said.

"We checked the computer records. No mention of a Jack Warner. We asked the staff and a few of them remember seeing Jane Warner alone last night. The room she says that her brother was staying in doesn't even exist. I think she might just be bonkers," Lestrade concluded confidentially.

"Either that or a ghost," John joked.

Sherlock and Rosamund exchanged a look. "Can we see the floor that ghost room is supposedly not on?" Sherlock asked.

One silent elevator ride later the group was on the seventh floor. A short traverse too them to a a hallway that boasted rooms 12 and 14 but no room 13, the room that Jane Warner said that Jack was checked into. Rosamund ran her fingers along the wall in between 12 and 14 where there was space for another room. The wall was smooth and the wallpaper matched the rest of the hall.

Sherlock asked to see the hotel manager. He was a short, French, blond man.

"Do the other floors have a room 13?" Sherlock asked.

"No," the manager answered curtly, "The owner was very superstitious. He only built the hotel to have twelve floors.

"Your cleaning staff is extremely thorough," Rosamund stated. The smell of cleaner hung in the stagnant air. The air conditioning had broken that morning according to the report but there was little need to run the unit. The weather was mild outside.

A few hours later, Sherlock and John had interviewed staff members and guests themselves. They looked at the hotel ledger as well. There was no record of Jack Warner as Lestrade had said.

Now they were on their way to meet with Jane Warner again. The three got out of the cab and walked toward the cafe when Rosamund stopped. "Sherlock," you cannot bring your little sister and your blogger to talk to the victim. She is already distraught and overwhelmed," she observed, "one person should go. Someone who is empathic enough to coax the truth from her without abusing her feelings."

"Do you think that is you?" Sherlock asked.

"Not at all," Rosamund replied, "I spent the last seven years in an asylum. "Dr. Watson has the empathy down but not the..."

Rosamund let that trail off.

"Okay. First of all, I think I was just insulted and secondly, Sherlock that is the face I am talking about," John blurted. He pointed at Rosamund.

Rosamund looked at Sherlock. "Well so much for the empathy part. What face?"

"John thinks that whenever I have solved a crime I get this face," Sherlock explained.

"You get a face?"

"Apparently, though seeing it on you I can tell you that it is annoying and stupid looking," Sherlock replied childishly, "I don't really look like that, do I?"

"You look exactly like that," John answered.

Sherlock looked offended. Rosamund snapped the boys back to the present task. "Sherlock, Jane is waiting. Dr. Watson and I will be at this sandwich shop when you are done. Shouldn't take more than five minutes." She started toward the shop.

"You and I?" John asked.

"Yes, Doctor,"Rosamund answered, "I still require a babysitter. Oh and Sherlock can you do me a favor and ask about Jack Warner's health."

John was flabbergasted at the exchange. He followed Rosamund into the shop as Sherlock started toward the cafe.

The two sat in a strange silence as they ate their sandwiches. Rosamund broke it first.

"I think that you and I could probably sit in abject silence for eternity," she said to the army doctor, "we both have the patience for it."

John didn't answer.

"You don't approve of me because Sherlock told you where I have been but there is something else. I think you are offended by my relationship with my brothers. Just because you have yelling fights or complete shut downs with any woman in your life that upsets you."

"Excuse me?" John said.

"You and your wife have been fighting enough that you spend most of your nonworking hours at Baker Street. Sherlock hasn't rented out your room because you still occupy it enough to be considered a dual resident. I know that you have a sibling, and I am guessing that it is a sister, given your insistence to Sherlock, when you think I cannot hear you, that the way he and I converse is not the way a brother and sister should."

"If you have such great powers of deduction, shouldn't you be helping Sherlock?" John asked.

"I am helping him," Rosamund replied, "and he has already solved the case or spending time with you has diminished his capacities."

John pursed his lips in a scowl.

Sherlock texted John asking him to come back to the hotel with Rosamund.

"There is something missing," Sherlock exclaimed, "How am I missing something?"

Sherlock paced the hall of the floor with the missing room. Rosamund, John, Lestrade, and the hotel manager waited. The three men were intently engaged it the detective's movements but Rosamund was bored. While Sherlock suggested one or two outlandish scenarios Rosamund quietly walked to the nearby maid's cart. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the cart. She took a mop and calmly walked to the wall past Sherlock who was starting his third scenarios. With no warning, Rosamund began beating the wall with a stick. The paper ripped and the plaster cracked. It did not take long for the four men to subdue the girl and remove the weapon.

"What in hell…" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Alohr!" the hotel manager cried.

"That took you long enough," Sherlock exclaimed. He caught himself. "I mean 'No. Stop. What do you think you are doing?'" he feigned a tone of shock and appall. He then reached into the arm sized hole that Rosamund had made. There was a click and a squeak. Sherlock opened the door that sat behind the newly plastered wall.

At the flat Sherlock and Rosamund explained to John.

"The hotel was sinking money into remodeling. The hotel manager is new and ill equipped to handle a scandal," Rosamund started.

"So when there were clear warnings that the guest staying in room 13 was carrying the Ebola virus, the manager chose to cover it up and not report it.," Sherlock continued.

"He secreted Jack away to a private hospital, had the cleaning staff clean the entire room and then sealed it away. There would be far less speculation if there was no room. It would be clear that the sister was just crazy."

"He even turned off the central air. He was so panicked by the Ebola epidemic," Sherlock concluded.

"How did you both figure this out?" John asked.

"There is an old French legend that during the typhoid fever scare, sometimes hotels would misplace guests that were ill or dying of the disease," Rosamund explained.

"It wasn't much of a stretch to think that the same could have happened again," Sherlock concluded.

Rosamund shrugged. She picked up a deerstalker that had fallen to the floor. "So when were you going to look into this case?" she asked her brother, holding up the hat.

"That is just a fan's idea of being clever," John sighed.

"I am sure it was sent by a fan, and a clever one at that, but this is not just a hat," Rosamund stated.

John and Sherlock shared a glance.


End file.
